


Winter the Rapture Way

by allgrift



Category: BioShock
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allgrift/pseuds/allgrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hector Rodriguez asks Kyle Fitzpatrick to go ice-skating with him at Fontaine's Department Store. Kyle says yes.</p><p> It's not a date. Definitely not a date. Why would anyone think they're dating?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter the Rapture Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avisceration (MourningPluto)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=avisceration+%28MourningPluto%29).



Hector had seen all the ads for Jack Frost’s Village in the newspapers, in posters, on Rapture Radio. So when the little brochure came fluttering through his mail slot that evening, proclaiming “Wintry Delights Galore: Experience Winter the Rapture Way,” the new ice rink in Fontaine’s Department Store wasn’t exactly news to him. Honestly, he’d drowned it out, made it part of the background of ads that surrounded his favorite music on the radio.

It was with only a cursory interest, then, that he flipped through the ice-blue paper that made up the brochure, barely reading the overly-hyped claims of “Bringing Winter Back to Rapture: Just In Time For the Holidays.” He paused on the final page: the silhouettes of skaters filled the scant area. Two were obviously meant to be a man and a woman holding hands, but the rest were of less determinate gender: two might be women, and two might be men, but it was hard to tell. It was this page that piqued his interest, and kept him from throwing the paper directly into the trashcan. Even if it was an attempt to appeal to more than just “traditional” couples, it reeled him in. 

Skates weren’t that expensive to rent, according to the brochure. No more than anything else in Rapture was, anyway. In fact, with the leftovers of his paycheck, he could afford to rent two pairs with more than enough to cover groceries comfortably. Humming “Deck the Halls” under his breath, he circled the rental price of men’s skates with a stub of pencil. Then he circled the opening dates of the rink with red pen, and drew an arrow pointing to them. Just in case. 

He dialed Kyle Fitzpatrick’s number once, hung up before the ringing could start. Then, cursing himself for a coward, he redialed. Almost in a panic, he hung up again. 

This wasn’t working. 

It wasn’t elegant, or even nice-looking, but he scribbled a note to Kyle on the back of an old water bill (crossed out) and put it together, with the brochure, into an envelope, upon which he wrote: “To Kyle Fitzpatrick. From H.” 

This was ridiculous, he told himself, as he went to the trouble of picking up a rose from a flower seller. He saw Kyle every day. Talked to him every day. Had dinner with him every day, and rode the train home with him to boot. They practically lived together at this point, so why was it so hard to ask his boyfriend on a date?  
Boyfriend. He’d not used that word before, in connection with Kyle. Not out loud, and not in his thoughts. That was a thing. Boyfriend. 

 

At work, Hector placed the envelope, together with the rose, on the piano bench, all ready for Kyle to find. He was honestly surprised Kyle wasn’t at work yet: usually, he was at work well before Hector. As he passed the little broom closet which Kyle had repurposed into an office, he got his answer: Kyle was bending over a stack of papers, likely signing them for Cohen. He looked almost sickly in the dim light: he really needed a break. 

“Hey, Kyle,” Hector said. “You want me to take over there? You could go practice.” 

Kyle looked up at him, rubbed his eyes. “But I still need to finish signing these answers to Cohen’s fanmail.” 

“Do you really think anyone will notice if I do it? It’s just flourishes, right? That’s all he uses? I can mimic it pretty well.” 

As evidence, he scribbled a passable forgery of his boss’s signature onto one of the pieces of paper Kyle kept by the phone for messages. 

“All right, then. I really should be working on the new piece for the gala- just- just don’t sign anything else.” 

Kyle hovered in the doorway, while Hector signed the top three fanmail responses. When Hector looked up, he was gone. 

 

As they broke for lunch, Kyle touched Hector’s shoulder, and Hector turned to him.

“Hey, Kyle.” 

“I found the envelope you left,” Kyle started. “And I love the idea- I really do, Hector, you’ve really done your research- but I’m not sure that, well-” 

“You’re not sure about showing up together like that,” Hector said. Though he’d been expecting Kyle to reject the offer, he still felt as though all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. 

Kyle offered him a tiny smile, although Hector could see by the pinched look of his eyes that he wanted to go. Something about how faraway he looked, like he was trying not to hope for anything at all. 

It was that look that stirred Hector to speak. 

“That’s the thing,” he said. “We could just go as friends- it wouldn’t be odd, two guys showing up to Fontaine’s Department Store, buying holiday presents, grabbing lunch, then getting in some vigorous skating exercise.” 

The faraway look in Kyle’s eyes was receding.

“You really think people would believe that?” he asked, almost too quickly. 

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t they? If it makes you feel better, we can go when Cohen’s throwing that party tomorrow: he’s already said he doesn’t care if we go. Anyone who’s anybody will be there, or gatecrashing it, and the rest will be standing outside looking for scraps.” 

“But we should really be in attendance,” Kyle started, but the words seemed flimsy, as though he didn’t believe them. 

“Do you really think we’ll get anything out of being there?” Hector asked. “We’ll both get drunk, and we might actually end up doing something that’s more difficult to deny than an evening ice-skating.” 

Kyle made a frantic gesture, pushing Hector farther back stage. 

“Keep your voice down!” he said, his own cracking. “Anyone could hear us talking.” 

“Sorry,” Hector mumbled, as Kyle looked to the left, then to the right, ensuring that the area was deserted.

“When you put it that way….” Kyle said. Hector could tell he was choosing his words carefully. 

“Well, I don’t think it would hurt much.” 

Hector grinned. 

“So you’ll be there? Tomorrow?” 

“I’ll wear my blue coat.” 

For the first time that day, Hector saw a smile steal across Kyle’s features. 

 

When tomorrow came, Hector was outside Kyle’s door at 12 pm sharp. He knew that for a fact, because he’d had to hustle just to get there on time. Why was it so hard to be on time for anything?  
All of that business didn’t matter, though, because when Kyle opened the door, Hector forgot it all.  
The coat he was wearing was almost grey, but it had too much of the sky in it to be that color. It was almost, almost, the color of Kyle’s eyes. Above it, his red hair was a flame, and his freckles were sparks.

“You look amazing,” Hector said, slipping Kyle’s hand into his, the gesture hidden in the camouflage of their coatsleeves. Kyle’s cheeks turned pink, and he tried to hide his face in his coat collar, muttering something into it.

“What?” Hector asked. 

“I said, so do you.” 

The tram ride to Fontaine’s Department Store was quiet, almost devoid of other people.  
There was one old woman, probably on her way to buy gifts for her grandkids, a few tired looking women, all together in a bunch, and a few kids, probably going to blow their allowance on cheap toys and candy.  
And then, there was Hector, his arm around Kyle’s shoulder (just against the seat where no one would spot it unless they were looking). He felt like pinching himself to see if he was actually awake. 

They took the elevator up to Jack Frost’s Village, watching the marine life slide by on the other side of the glass.

“Look,” Kyle said, raising his hand to point out a flurried mass of seahorses, which darted close to the glass before moving away again, their bodies the color of bright coral variegated with dark kelp. Hector tightened his hand around Kyle’s, feeling how delicate his fingers were. 

Kyle moved closer, rested his shoulder against Hector’s for a second or two, before the door opened and cold wintry air washed over them. 

“You can almost smell the cold in the air,” Kyle said, eyes widening as a few snowflakes drifted through the door of the elevator. 

Hector wanted to wrap him in another coat, protect him from the chill.

“It’s just like Schenectady,” Kyle said. He closed his eyes for a second, inhaling the cold air, before opening them again. 

They rented ice-skates without much trouble, and before long, they were gliding out onto the frozen floor. The snowdrifts seemed to be of real snow, and Hector wondered how they kept it so cold when the rest of Rapture was relatively warm. Then he felt his legs slide out from under him. Kyle gave a startled noise, and grabbed Hector’s hands, helping him up. 

“Are you hurt? Does anything feel odd?” 

“Sorry,” he said, steadying himself. “I’ve never done this before. I’m okay.” Somehow, he didn’t feel as embarrassed as he would if he was with anyone else. 

Kyle remained sure on his feet. “I’ve ice-skated before,” he explained. “Try not locking your knees, see?” 

He glided out ahead of Hector for a few steps, and Hector followed after. As they rounded the deserted rink, he felt his gait strengthening, and he skated out in front of Kyle.. Before he could think twice, Hector took Kyle’s arm.  
Maybe Kyle was blushing, or maybe it was the cold. Either way, his cheeks rivaled his hair. But he didn’t pull away. 

There were little food carts everywhere inside the department store: most of them were closed, but one selling hot drinks and candy was still open. Hector purchased two hot chocolates, and a stick of cotton candy for the two of them, despite Kyle’s offer to pay for his share.  
Together, they watched the spun candy twirl in the machine, the artificial smell almost intoxicating. Kyle plucked off a fluff of the candy, and put it in his mouth, pink tongue jutting out to touch the pinker candy. Hector watched, squeezing his hand tight. He felt as though he’d been given a very precious gift, one that might disappear if he looked away from it. 

“How is it?” he asked, and Kyle closed his teeth around the candy.

“Amazing,” Kyle said, already reaching out to pinch off another piece. They were sitting on a couch, where a potted plant mostly obscured them from view. No one was paying them much attention. Kyle looked around for a second, though no one was within view.

“Open your mouth,” Kyle said, lips quirked as though he was about to laugh. Hector hoped he would. 

“What are you gonna do?” 

“You’ll find out.” 

Hector obeyed, and tasted cotton candy, pure sugar melting on his tongue. As he closed his mouth, he opened his eyes, grinning.  
Kyle was very close to him now, his mouth opening in a quiet little laugh.  
Hector made his decision: he kissed Kyle on the mouth. It was only meant to be a peck of a kiss, but then Kyle kissed back, his hand going to Hector’s shoulder.

He tasted sweet as candy.


End file.
